Technical Difficulties
by SpyKid18
Summary: "If we die in battle, it is all this damn printer's fault!"  Set in Season 7.  Spike/Buffy fluff


**A/N: First Spuffy fic. Hope you all enjoy it!**

Technical Difficulties

Spike wandered upstairs, seeking to escape the constant chattering of the young potentials. He had forgotten how irritating young girls could be. In his recent past there was a fairly effective way of silencing them (and he usually did) but his new souled-self could barely snarl toward them and he knew Buffy would kick his ass for a lot less.

Even his basement had lost its sense of privacy because while the potentials still had some hesitation in descending into his lair, Andrew had no qualms with walking down the stairs and intruding on the small bit of solitude that Spike retained in his new living arrangements. He was always there spouting off his sci-fi geek mumbo jumbo and when he wasn't talking he had that blasted camera out. At first Spike hadn't minded the camera but everything lost it's novelty after a while and having the camera shoved in his face more times than he could count, made it wear its welcome out quickly.

He wandered down the hall, stopping when he heard a familiar voice drifting from the den. He drifted closer, listening in as Buffy continued on her tirade. He wondered who it was on the other end and what exactly they had done to bring on Buffy's wrath. Having been on the receiving end several times, he felt an uncharacteristic wave of sympathy for whoever this person was.

"You are unbelievable," Buffy hissed. "You are _freaking_ unbelievable." He jerked his head back in surprise when he heard what he assumed was Buffy's foot collide with something solid and then a chorus of swear words recited in her dulcet tones. He pushed the door open gingerly, having to stop himself from laughing when he saw that the object of Buffy's anger was not a person but instead the printer set beside the computer.

"Everything alright, Slayer?"

"Oh, everything is fine," she said testily. "An apocalypse is on the horizon. I have a hoard of wannabe-slayers downstairs who can barely work together on deciding which take out to get. And this damn printer refuses to cooperate. Yes, everything is _peachy_ _keen_."

He was accustomed to her tirades and paid little attention to her fuming self as he stepped forward and peered at the printer. Lights were flashing and the small monitor read _error_. He had no idea what to do with any of it, never having been one to keep up with technology. It changed too fast for him, one useless system replacing another. He didn't even try anymore.

"Yeah, sorry love, I have no idea what to do with this."

"Of course you don't," she snapped. "You were practically born before the light bulb. What would you know about any of this?"

"Well, actually-"

"Why won't you work," Buffy grumbled. She began pushing a series of buttons, a growl building in the back of her throat as the machine began to beep at her. "Don't you beep at me, printer! _Don't_ you beep at me!"

"Maybe you shouldn't be pressing all those buttons," Spike suggested, giving her a look when she set him with a steely glare. "What? You admit yourself that you don't know what you're doing, love."

"I _do_ know what I'm doing," Buffy huffed. "I am taking out my frustration on the stupid machine and if it knows what's good for it the stupid thing will start working."

"Sure, because that makes sense."

Her eyes were pure fire as she hissed, "Well, what do you suggest brainiac?"

"We could get Andrew."

"No," she said immediately. "I am not getting help from _Andrew_."

"Don't like the idea much myself, love. But he is good at all of the tech stuff. Lives and breathes it."

Buffy clenched her jaw and bit out between agitated jabs at the machine, "I…do…not…need…Andrew."

"What are you printing anyway?" Spike asked, glancing at the computer screen. He scanned the text as she said, "Battle formations."

"For…"

"For our slayer meeting tonight," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He looked at her with a smirk and said, "You're making handouts for the slayer meeting?"

"I thought it might help to have them be more interactive." She jabbed another button and jumped when the printer beeped angrily. The _error_ message changed to _paper jam_ and she cried out, "There is no paper jam! There is no paper, period! I took it all out when you _told_ me to!"

"Buffy-"

"If we die in battle, it is all this damn printer's fault!" she hissed, imparting a final blow to the printer's power button. The monitor went black and she leaned back against the desk. Spike waited a few moments.

One.

Two.

Three.

"So, you want me to get Andrew?"

Glumly Buffy replied, "Yes, please."

**A/N: Would love your feedback!**


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